


Malice

by katling



Series: Cullrian Appreciation Week [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demons, Dorian does not fear demons, M/M, Red Lyrium Cullen, The Fade, especially when they have cullen, red lyrium corruption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's my contribution for Day 4 of Cullrian Appreciation Week over on tumblr. The theme for today is: Loss and Corruption.</p>
<p>When Cullen goes missing, Dorian will do whatever he can to get him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malice

Dorian knew that Adaar and the others were worried about him. They had fought their way through the Red Templar stronghold and he’d cast his spells with a ferocity they had never seen before. He knew he was probably living up to many of the more unpleasant images of the ruthless Tevinter mage but… it was _Cullen_ being held prisoner here and there was very little that Dorian _wouldn’t_ do to find his lover.

Hindsight was, as always, magnificent in telling them they should have been suspicious about the invitation but it was also true that the siege on Adamant had given Cullen a certain celebrity among the Orlesian military leadership. His tactics and strategy were being lauded across the entire country and therefore the invitation to speak at the Orlesian military academy had been seen as a well-earned plaudit. The invitation had turned out to be genuine but the carriage and retainers sent for Cullen’s use had not.

Between Leliana and Josephine they’d found where the carriage had taken Cullen but nearly a week had passed before they were able to get that information. A week in which the Red Templars had been doing Maker only knows what. No one had attempted to stop Dorian from coming, which was just as well, and Dorian had found Solas to be oddly soothing company on the trip. Indulgent company too, more than willing to distract Dorian with an in depth discussion of magical theory every time Dorian’s temper looked close to fraying. He knew Solas was doing _something_ every night in the Fade, something to do with Cullen, but the elven mage refused to tell him what it was. All he would say was that the situation was concerning but he would not elaborate. Dorian had considered pushing but he suspected Solas would simply refuse to tell him.

The battles they’d fought in the Red Templar stronghold had been numerous but given how much fury and fear was fuelling Dorian’s magic, they hadn’t been as difficult as they might have been. He knew the strength behind his magic was worrying some of the others and downright scaring Sera but… he didn’t care. He paced across the small room where Adaar had decreed they would rest for a few minutes. He hadn’t wanted to stop but Adaar had stared him down. He couldn’t bring himself to stop moving though and he paced impatiently as he waited for the others.

“Alright,” Adaar rumbled, picking up his massive sword. “Let’s go.”

Dorian was the first out the door but before he could get far, his shoulder was caught by a large strong hand.

“Let us go first, Dorian,” Adaar said patiently. “You’re a little too squishy to be running face-first into these Templars and Cullen will get cross with me if I let you get hurt.”

Dorian nodded stiffly and let Adaar, Bull, Blackwall and Cassandra move past him. All four warriors looked grim enough to assuage Dorian’s nerves and the expressions on the faces of Sera, Varric, Solas and Vivienne were no different. Only Cole seemed calm but the fierceness in the way he was fighting was enough for Dorian. Besides, Cole’s calmness was oddly soothing in a way. He suspected that if something was wrong with Cullen, Cole would not be so calm.

They made their way down towards the dungeons and when they broke out into a large room at the base of the stairs, they found themselves walking straight into another fight. Dorian growled under his breath and let fire and terror flow from his hands. None of them saw the man who walked into the room until there was a massive explosion that threw Dorian against the wall and then he knew nothing.

Dorian groaned as he swam back towards consciousness, unsure of where he was for a moment. Then his memories returned and he gasped as he forced his eyes open. He was still in the large room where they’d been fighting. There were bodies of Red Templars everywhere but no sign of anyone else from the Inquisition. Dorian scrambled to his feet, clutching at his head with his free hand as he leaned on his staff until his head stopped swimming.

He pushed himself off the wall and headed for the door leading off the room. It opened easily to reveal a long corridor with a number of doors opening off it. He started walking down the corridor warily and stopped at the first door to peer through the small barred window.

“Inquisitor!” he whispered as loud as he dared.

The huge Vashoth warrior was sprawled on the floor of the cell behind the door but he did not move even when Dorian shouted his name as loudly as he dared. Dorian tried the door but it was locked and when he moved down the corridor, checking all the cells, he found everyone except for Cole. The final door however did not conceal a cell and when he pushed it open, he found another large room. Across the other side of the room was a man with very familiar curly blond hair.

“Cullen!” he gasped with relief.

He only got a half dozen steps into the room when Cullen turned around and Dorian came to a sudden horrified halt.

“Cullen… no,” he whispered, despair flooding through him. 

Cullen was wearing Templar armour again and though it was too soon for the crystals to mar his skin or the armour, the red in his eyes and the blank expression on his face were more than enough to tell Dorian what had happened. As Dorian watched, Cullen blinked slowly and sense flowed back into his face and eyes and the despair that quickly appeared was enough to make the mage stagger.

“Dorian,” Cullen rasped, reaching out jerkily with one hand. “Please… kill me.”

Dorian’s knees buckled underneath him and he fell to the floor, his staff clattering against the stone next to him. “No,” he moaned, shaking his head in denial. “No, please don’t ask that of me, Amatus.”

He heard the shuffling sounds of Cullen’s footsteps and the corrupted man stopped in front of him. 

“Please,” Cullen begged. “I can’t…”

Dorian curled in on himself, wondering if he’d ever felt so much pain before. The pain of his father’s betrayal, even the physical pain from the wounds he’d received in the service of the Inquisition were _nothing_ compared to this. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, to see his beloved corrupted by the red lyrium.

_Look, Dorian. See. Understand._

The amorphous words floated through the air and Dorian jerked upright. He knew that voice. _Cole_. That had been _Cole_. The only one who had not been in the cells. He scrambled to his feet only to find himself face to face with Cullen. The song of the red lyrium was powerful this close and he also couldn’t miss the defeat and misery in Cullen’s eyes.

“Dorian,” Cullen pleaded in that horrible rasping tone.

_No. Look. Understand. It’s not this way._

Dorian stepped backwards and looked around desperately. “Cole! What do you _mean_?”

A sudden sense of menace flooded through the room and then came a single a faint whisper in the air.

_Solas._

Dorian backed further away and frowned. What did it all mean? He swallowed hard then looked at Cullen. The man was standing in place, one hand reaching out imploringly. Dorian forced himself to continue looking, trying to see what Cole had been trying to tell him. 

Then it came to him in a rush. Cullen was wearing Templar armour. His hair was curly, something he never allowed to leave their bedroom. He looked _young_. In fact, he looked a good ten years younger than he really was.

It all came together. _It’s not this way. Solas._ He was in the Fade. And if he’d done what this mockery of Cullen wanted then… well, Cullen wasn’t a mage so the Maker only knew what kind of damage he would have done to his lover if he’d killed him here.

Dorian straightened and anger flowed through him, clearing his mind. He was in the Fade and he was certain this wasn’t anything he’d constructed. That wave of malice was proof enough of that. But he was a mage of Tevinter, not one of the south, and he did _not_ fear the spirits and demons of the Fade.

“Well now, this is all wrong,” he said with as much scorn as he could muster. “Did you really think I’d be taken in by such amateur mistakes?”

The malice seemed to snarl for a moment and Dorian tossed his head back in an imperious gesture.

“I mean, _really_.” He snorted. “Adaar’s head is far too hard for him to remain unconscious this long and this _boy_ …” He waved at the image of Cullen before him. “Is not my Amatus.”

The walls of the room shimmered for a moment then a spindly form stepped through. The sense of malice came with the form and Dorian felt a moment of worry. This… was not like any demon he’d faced before and he wondered if he’d named it well. Not fear or anger or despair but pure Malice.

“I still have your pretty Templar,” Malice hissed. “Perhaps I shall give you his head.”

Dorian saw something flicker behind Malice, something that looked very much like a familiar and ludicrously broad hat. He kept any reaction off his face and instead he leered at Malice.

“Well, Cullen _is_ very good at _giving_ head but that’s not something a thing like _you_ would ever know.”

The demon hissed angrily at him. It made a sharp gesture and the room faded out into a nothingness of rocky plains that revealed a chained and gagged Cullen kneeling not far away. This time Dorian could see it was the _real_ Cullen, _his_ Cullen. And a Cullen who was _desperately_ trying to conquer his fears and on the knife edge of failing.

Dorian gritted his teeth and hoped that Cole’s little mind-reading trick was still working when he pushed the thought out there of _Cole, help Cullen!_ There was a flicker near Cullen and the man jerked then drew in a deep shuddering breath and seemed to calm just a fraction. Just in time for Malice to stalk over, grab him by the collar and drag him over to face Dorian. Cullen’s eyes widened and Dorian saw a flash of fear in them but this time it wasn’t fear of where he was and what he’d faced but fear _for Dorian_ and as he watched, he saw Cullen drag his focus and wits together around him by sheer force of will. He wanted nothing more than to kiss Cullen and praise him for his remarkable courage until he was blushing a brilliant crimson but there was still a demon to deal with.

Dorian struck a pose and smirked at his lover. “Now, Amatus, I know I said I wanted to get away for a naughty holiday but this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

Cullen stared at him blankly for a moment then he shrugged and made a muffled noise that might have been an offhand comment of ‘What can you do?’ It had the effect Dorian hoped for. Malice snarled and tossed Cullen to one side.

“You think to mock _me_?” the demon howled.

Dorian snorted. “Well, I certainly wasn’t planning on taking you seriously.”

Malice howled and then abruptly screamed. Dorian whipped his staff around and unleashed a torrent of fire at the demon. He saw Cole skip away before the flames impacted and then there was a wave of rift magic from the side and Solas swam into view. They pummelled the demon from all sides until it screeched and fled. As it did, the Fade wavered around Dorian and a moment later he found himself falling onto a stone floor.

He scrambled to his feet to find Solas and Cole already standing. The others were lying on the floor, groaning and moaning and mumbling as they came round. Dorian headed for the Inquisitor to check on him but then the door in the opposite wall creaked open and he raised his staff. 

He lowered it just as quickly when he saw who had opened the door. A battered, beaten and haunted Cullen leaned in the doorway, wearing only a pair of dirty breeches and shirt. His eyes found Dorian unerringly and he slumped against the door jamb with a sob of relief. Dorian sprinted over to Cullen and caught him when he toppled forward into his arms. Cullen’s weight drove them both to their knees and Cullen buried his face in the crook of Dorian’s neck. Dorian held onto him tightly and pressed kiss after kiss into his dirty curls. And if he felt the wetness on the skin of his neck, then he had no intention of calling any attention to it.

“You came,” Cullen whispered brokenly.

“Always, Amatus,” Dorian replied. He cradled Cullen’s face between his hands and kissed his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead. He peppered kisses all over Cullen’s face until the man finally relaxed. “Always.”


End file.
